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It's a Wicked Good Day to be a Mainer.

It's a Wicked Good Day to be a Mainer.

April 26, 2018

The birds are singing, the temperature is rising out of the 30s (at least during the day), the sheep are round with lamb and fleece, and it's a great day to be a Mainer. 

They're fixing up the wharf while all the fishermen are still working on gear. In a few short days it will be a flurry as everyone rushes to get traps in the water and the bulk of the flock starts to lamb, but for today we could still enjoy an afternoon as a family. 

We started off planting some seeds! I know it's silly, but I've planted melon seeds every year and they've never made it past a seedling (too cold and not sunny for long enough). But I'm feeling confident this year with the greenhouse! 

More practical crops include potatoes...potatoes...and a few more potatoes for good measure in my garden when she's a tad warmer. 

I had a few minutes to set up some raspberry supports, pack a dinner pail and then off to the clam flats we went. 

There's nothing like bumping down a dirt road, mere feet from the possibility of sliding down a ravine to a watery end. 

But even more cathartic is spending a whole afternoon; longer if you can spare it, sitting on the rocky shore with no schedule or agenda, and watching the trees sway and the children explore freely. 

It's comforting to come to the ocean, knowing it's always the same peaceful cacophony of wind, waves, gulls, and perhaps the distant purr of a lobster boat. Whenever I may find my surroundings less than ideal, I remember that those same waves are tirelessly encroaching or retreating against that shore, and it calms me right down.

 

We found a nice driftwood log to set up on and eat gritty ham sandwiches, not caring about crumbs or table manners. 

 

While we were there, lo and behold a pack of homeschoolers arrived, ready to learn about digging clams firsthand. Some of the middle schoolers are good diggers themselves and were eager to show their classmates how it's done.

 

Later that evening we went down the road to Lubec, Dave's hometown.

Here's Canada across the way!

 

Still later we broke out the fiddles, whistles and guitars and made a racket back at the farm. Davey sang along. 

Many people may not enjoy a 45 degree day: not unless they'd just come through a long, cold spell. If you wonder why we'd subject ourselves to such an uninviting climate as winter in Maine, you wouldn't be the first. But if you've ever spent a summer day here, you'd wonder why anyone would want to live anywhere else! 

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